Blitzed

By Mickey S.

This is a fictional story. Most of the characters and events are figments of
the author's imagination. However, some of the fictional characters take part
in real events and some real characters take part in fictional events. In spite
of that, this is a fictional story. My thanks to Tim and Drew
for all of their help. The author retains all rights. No reproductions
are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at NJMcMick@yahoo.com.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I said nothing to Terrence about what I'd overheard, mainly because I couldn't
decide just how to say it. I wanted to warn him about Betty, but I'd been
eavesdropping and I couldn't admit to that. So as we lay in bed before falling
asleep we talked about the wedding and the upcoming invasion. Terrence said he
wasn't sure how the invasion, whenever it came, would affect him. The
past few weeks he'd been flying more than usual and now he'd just been
reassigned to a Spitfire fighter group.

I hadn't heard anything about dogfights over the Channel so I assumed he was
flying some type of patrol or reconnaissance, but I knew better than to ask.
He'd long ago made it clear his missions were secret and it made him
uncomfortable to have to refuse to answer my questions. So he would tell me
what he could and we left it at that.

He left early Sunday morning and I had to leave in
the afternoon. I didn't get to see TR and Sarah again as they had spent their
wedding night in a suite at Claridge's. TR had to be back in the office that
morning, even though it was Sunday. The invasion wouldn't wait for something as
mundane as a lowly captain's honeymoon.

As soon as I returned to Pirbright, I had to say
goodbye to Peter and John. Peter took it especially hard, seeing me leave for
battle without him.

"You've never invaded a country without me to watch
over you. Who's going to watch out for you now?"

"I suppose I'll just have to look after myself."

"The last time you did that you got shot."

"Let's hope I learned something from that
experience. I promise I'll keep my head down, along with the rest of me."

"You'd better. I want you to come back in one
piece."

I had been assigned to the First Battalion of the
Suffolk Regiment which was stationed near Pirbright on their way to
Southampton. The regiment had seen some early action in France and had been one
of those evacuated from Dunkirk four years earlier. I hoped my battle
experiences in Africa and Italy would help me fit in. I'd been impressed when I
found that many of them had fought the blitzkrieg but it turned out my
experiences impressed them even more. They weren't proud of their performance
in Belgium and France and were itching for a chance to make up for that. And
since the campaigns I'd been involved in were successful, they envied me.

And so on June 3, less than two weeks after the
festive wedding, I was part of one of those military convoys heading south to
the Channel. We still didn't know where we were going, but we were on our way.

A few days before, I had sent a carefully worded
letter to Terrence, trying to warn him about Betty's plans. I tried to be as
vague as possible, while encouraging him to be careful. I hated even thinking
about him being with her in that way, but I wanted to make sure he took precautions.

Dear Terrence,
I wish we had had more time to talk after the wedding. We see so little of each
other these days and there is never enough time. Now that the wedding is over,
I have something I want to tell you. I promised TR I would keep it a secret,
but I can't keep secrets from you. So, if you promise not to tell anyone, here
goes. TR and Sarah are expecting. That's the real reason they moved up the
wedding. Isn't that exciting? I'm going to be an uncle!
Of course, it's only good news because they were in love and planning to get
married, anyway. If they hadn't been, it could have been a disaster. Can you
imagine? The only honorable thing to do would be to get married, of
course, but that could end in two ruined lives, three when you count the baby,
if they weren't ready for it. Fortunately, TR and Sarah were ready.
So many couples are rushing into marriage these days, mainly due to the
uncertainty of the war, but an unplanned pregnancy is not a good way to start a
life together. Thank God the military makes protection readily available. I'm
not saying either one of us is doing anything that needs protection, but in
case the need arises, it's good to be prepared. We're both too young to be
husbands or fathers.
Yours,
Woody

I'd also sent a letter to TR, letting him know I was going to reveal his secret
to Terrence, and why. I was a little more open with him about what I'd
overheard, hoping that he would keep an eye on Betty. If ever there was a time
I didn't want to leave England, this was it.

We put to sea on the fifth of June. The weather had
been terrible for the previous twenty-four hours, but it was easing up a bit.
Even so, the seas were rougher than they'd been on my earlier invasions. Men
did just about anything to kill time on the ship. Some attended impromptu
church services, some read, some gambled. I sat and wrote in my journal, trying
to organize my thoughts.

Once we were at sea we were finally given our
destination – Normandy. Our assignment was taking a beach called Sword. It was
the easternmost of five beaches involved in the invasion. Just to our west the
Canadians were landing on Gold beach and on the other side of them would be
more British on Juno beach. The two westernmost beaches, Omaha and Utah, were
the responsibility of the Americans. Our sector of Sword, Queen, was right in
the middle. We were expected to not only take the beach the first day but to
move nearly ten miles inland and capture the city of Caen.

Not long after midnight we were given breakfast –
corned beef sandwiches and a tot of rum, which was apparently an old naval
tradition. Spirits were high as we got into our landing craft, but after being
tossed about in very rough waters for a few hours, the men were feeling more
impatient and less optimistic. Many were getting sick, losing their breakfast.
The rum hadn't been a good choice.

The experience of my youthful summers sailing on
Long Island Sound helped keep my stomach calm but I was feeling claustrophobic
crammed into such a small space with so many men. As it grew lighter, I was
overwhelmed by the sight before me. There were literally thousands of ships of
all kinds as far as the eye could see. Except for right around my own landing
craft I couldn't see any water at all. It looked like it would be possible to walk
back to England stepping from ship to ship.

But that's not the direction we were going. There
weren't as many craft between us and the French shoreline, but it was still
quite a sight. We were in the first wave of the invasion but not right at the
front. Those ahead of us reached land at about 7:30 and were met with moderate
fire by the sounds that came across the water. About half an hour later we made
it to the beach. There were quite a number of wounded, but it wasn't the
massacre I was imagining. In fact, the men at the front had already pushed off
the beach and most of the fighting was inland.

The men from my company concentrated on securing
the beach while I helped what wounded I could. We soon moved inland as well,
although we didn't go very far. Our battalion was given the task of capturing
two heavily fortified German strongpoints, codenamed Morris and Hillman. Morris
fell after only an hour or so, but the fighting for Hillman was fierce. We had
to cross minefields and barbed wire under heavy artillery fire. We suffered
many casualties, which kept me busy, and we didn't make much progress until we
got tank support and an extra squadron came to help us. And in the meantime no
one could get past, so it soon became clear we weren't going to take Caen the
first day. As usual, I lost track of the battle completely as I moved from one
wounded soldier to the next.

It was after ten when we'd finally secured Hillman
and settled in for the night. It had been a long, long day. Two days, actually,
as we'd been up all night before the invasion had even started. My last thought
as I dropped off to sleep was that it wasn't quite over as we'd have to take
Caen in the morning.

But that wasn't to be. We tried, but although we
initially made some progress and reached the outskirts of the city, a Panzer
division pushed us back. We tried another approach later in the week with the
same results. We weren't gaining any ground but the casualties kept on coming.

Over the next six weeks I learned a little of what
soldiers in the Great War must have felt. We repeatedly pushed forward toward
Caen, only to hit a brick wall and be knocked back. It was a stalemate. We
weren't stuck in trenches, but we weren't going anywhere either. I'd
experienced some of that back-and-forth action in Tunisia, but even when we
were retreating there we were on the move. In Normandy, we were stuck in one
spot. And we were so close to the coast that there wasn't enough room to bring
in more troops and supplies behind us, at least not as many as we would have
liked.

The last week of June following a three day
monsoon-like storm, another operation was launched to take Caen, this time from
the west. Our job was to capture a German-held chateau, de la Londe. We were led to believe it wasn't well-defended, but
it took two days of heavy fighting and scores of casualties before we were
successful. I spent two full days and the night in between repairing wounds,
applying tourniquets, numbing pain and watching young men die. Surrounded by
gaping wounds and bloody stumps, it was getting harder and harder for me to
work impersonally, concentrating on the job and not the patient.

After the battle was over, as exhausted as I was, I
couldn't fall asleep. The bloody images of the past two days, and the three
weeks before, kept whirling through my head. I tried to will
myself to sleep, lying still, thinking of my family back in London, even those
back in New York, listening to the rhythmic breathing of the men around me,
anything to take my mind off the bloodshed of the past month. After a while I
heard what sounded like soft sobbing coming from not far away. I sat up and
looked around in the dark. After a moment my eyes adjusted and I could make out
the shapes of sleeping soldiers. The sobbing was coming from one not too far to
my right. I crawled over to him.

"Are you hurt?" I whispered as I put my hand on
what I thought was his shoulder. He jumped at my touch and pulled away.

"N-no, I'm fine."

"It didn't sound like it. Are you sure you're all
right?"

"You're that Yank medic, aren't you?" He sat up and
squinted at me, trying to see in the dark.
"Yes, Sergeant Cooper. And you are ...?"

"Private Edward Demarest. I just got here a few
days ago."

"I thought so. I don't know many of the men well,
but I at least recognize most of the faces. I only joined the regiment last
month, so I'm somewhat new myself."

The small talk seemed to calm him down and it took
my mind off the battle as well.

"So you're not used to battle, either. How do you
stand it? I don't mind that I might die at any moment. Well, I do, actually,
but I've accepted that that might happen. But it's all so terrible out here,
the blood, the gore, the pain. It's like a horror story that never ends."

"Actually, I've been through plenty of fighting
before this. It doesn't get any easier, though. And you're right,
it's the terrible things that are happening all around you that are worse than
anything happening to you."

I gave him a brief rundown of my experiences in
North Africa, Sicily and Italy.

"What I went through after getting shot was no
picnic, but it wasn't any worse than what I saw all the time happening to
others on the battlefield."

"You've been in the army a long time. How old are
you?"

"I'm ... You don't happen to know today's date, do you?"

"It's the twenty-eighth."

"Then I'm twenty-one. Today was my birthday."

"Not a very happy one. I'm 18."

"That's how old I was when I joined up. Let's hope
that by the time you're 21 the war will be over."

"How did a Yank end up in the British Army?"

I told him an abbreviated version of my story. He
told me about his family in Suffolk. After a while he began to yawn. I was
feeling drowsy myself. When he dozed off I went back to my place and was
finally able to fall asleep.

The only advantage I could think of to being stuck
in one place for over a month was good mail service. Normally when there was
heavy fighting the mail was delayed. But since we weren't moving much, each
time the fighting ended the mail resumed pretty quickly. I filled all of the
time I wasn't tending to the wounded writing letters. My parents, grandparents,
TR, Terrence, Mrs. Atkins, Alice, Peggy, Peter and John all heard from me that
first month in Normandy. I couldn't tell them much, like where I was or what I
was doing, but I could let them know I was alive. I mostly asked how they were
doing.

I'd seen Peggy once on her return to England in
March. The next time she came back was the week after TR's wedding, so I missed
her then. By now she was probably back in Italy although she couldn't tell me
that. From what we'd been told things were going well on that front. While
there had been a lot of heavy fighting there all spring, the Allies had
liberated Rome right about the time we were invading Normandy.

By mid-July I'd heard back from everyone except
Terrence and his mother. I'd received a brief note from Alice but she didn't
have much to say. Her letters were usually all about Terence's last letter to
her, or his last visit, but she didn't even mention him. I supposed with the
invasion he was probably too busy to write and most assuredly not able to get
leave.

Even so, I was anxious at not getting a letter from
him. I was afraid that maybe the warning in my letter had been too blunt, that
maybe he was annoyed that I was prying into his sex life. I'd written him again
just before the assault on Chateau de la Londe, not
even hinting at sex at all, but still I got no reply. I was concerned enough to
ask about him in my next letter to TR, thinking he might have heard from him.

The second week of July we finally took the part of
Caen north of the Orne River, not that there was much
of the city left by then. The RAF had launched a massive bombing campaign a few
days before that left the city in ruins. Unfortunately, it didn't do much to
weaken the German defenses north of the city, so we ran into the fiercest
fighting yet as we made our way toward Caen. The injuries were gruesome, even
worse than I'd seen in the minefield near Hillman.

I made a point of keeping an eye on Private
Demarest when we were in battle. He handled himself quite well, showing courage
I wouldn't have expected from our brief conversation. Every now and then I
caught his eye and gave him a reassuring smile. He responded with a nod of his
head and a smile back.

In the middle of July we took part in a huge tank
battle sweeping around to the east of Caen. In two days of terrible fighting we
finally gained the southern half of the city and about seven miles beyond.

Over the next few weeks we slowly moved westward
toward the American sector, helping to capture the town of Vire.
We then pushed southeast toward Flers. I had no idea
what the strategy was. Apparently the heaviest buildup of German tanks and
troops was east of Caen, so we were going around them. In any event, we were
finally capturing territory, though quite slowly, and that was important.

But it had taken over a month to move the ten miles
from the Channel to Caen, then another month to move about the same distance to
the south and west. Two months of heavy fighting and we were further from
Germany than when we'd landed. At that rate I estimated that even if we started
heading in the right direction we wouldn't make it to Berlin until my
twenty-fifth birthday - if our manpower held out. We had casualties in the
thousands. We were losing men much faster than we had in Africa and Italy.

Our eastward push brought us together with the main
part of the British army, the Canadians and the US 1st army near Argentan. I assumed that once we'd joined up with the
American armies we'd have some time to rest up a bit. We were now in firm
control of northwestern France, had taken tens of thousands of prisoners, and
the Germans were in full retreat. But although the heavy fighting was over, we
had only begun to move. The American armies took off to the east, heading
toward Paris. The British and Canadians went northeast to the Seine.

Now there was almost no fighting and we moved as
fast as an army could. We only stopped once, in early September near the border
of Belgium, and that was because we'd outrun our supplies. There we camped for
nearly three days waiting for convoys of trucks to bring in supplies.

One day I was playing cards with Private Demarest
when a convoy arrived. There were six trucks, three of them tankers of petrol,
three with food and ammunition. They were escorted by two jeeps. It was only
nine in the morning and it was the third convoy of the day. Our supplies had
finally caught up. The trucks were behind me and I didn't pay much attention to
them, but after a few minutes Pvt. Demarest jumped to attention and saluted, so
I stood and turned around. I already had my hand up to salute the American
captain approaching us when I realized it was TR!

I completed my salute and he returned it, then we
shook hands warmly. I wanted so much to hug him but I restrained myself and
introduced him to Edward.

"You're a full-fledged Yank, I see."

"Half and half, just like
Woody. But I was on the other side of the pond when the war started."

"What are you doing here, TR?"

"Checking out this damned supply nightmare. You know we haven't got a real harbor we can use yet, so
everything is still coming through the beaches at Normandy. That was fine when
all of the fighting was around there, but now the armies are spread out over
hundreds of miles. Patton's yelling so loud we can practically hear him in
London, so they sent me over to make sure the Red Ball Express is working out."

"We were moving really well but now we've been
sitting here two days waiting for supplies."

"The Red Ball Express is doing a better job than
we'd hoped but you guys are getting too far away from Normandy for it to be of
much use for long. It takes too much time and fuel just to deliver the
supplies."

"Well, it's a wonderful coincidence that you ended
up here."

"It's not a coincidence at all. When I learned I'd
be traveling around with the supplies I made sure I'd get to your division. I
wanted to see you."

"How's everyone back home? Is Sarah doing all
right?"

"She's just fine and getting bigger every day. Our
secret is out. The doctor says she's due the first week of January."

"And Mother and Dad?"

"Why don't we get some coffee? I've been on the
road all night."

"After you've tasted British army coffee you might
want to switch to tea," I said as I led him toward the mess tent. Edward excused
himself, leaving us to catch up on family news.

"The family's fine, but they've been worried about
you." TR took a sip of coffee and grimaced slightly. "The fighting was so
fierce in the beginning it was good that we got so many letters from you to reassure
us you were all right, but now that you're on the move your letters have
slowed. Have you heard that London is being bombed again?"

"No. How is that possible? I thought the Allies had complete superiority in the
air."

"We do, but the Germans have developed rockets,
flying bombs, that they launch from various locations here on the Continent.
They're not very accurate so the bombing is somewhat random, but there's no
warning at all when they are going to hit. In London they call them doodlebugs
but I think that makes them sound cute and they're anything but. They're
horrible. You hear a buzzing and five seconds later they go off."

"Isn't there any way to stop them?"

"We're getting better at shooting them down, but
the best way to stop them is to capture the launching sites. They're near the
Channel, so as we advance we put them out of business."

"So everyone back home is all right so far?"

"The family is fine."

"How's Terrence? I haven't heard from him at all
since I've been here."

"I know you've been concerned about not hearing
from him. That's the main reason I wanted to see you in person." He hesitated
and took a deep breath. "Terrence was shot down over Normandy the day of the
invasion. He got pretty banged up when he bailed out, but he survived and he's
been taken prisoner."

"Prisoner? Banged up? How bad is he?" My heart was in my throat and I
could barely talk.

"He broke his leg and dislocated his shoulder, but
other than that `banged up' pretty much covers it."

"How long have you known this?"

"I knew he was shot down almost immediately.
Working at headquarters I have some good connections and I try to keep pretty
close tabs on both of you guys. But I didn't know any more until Mrs. Atkins
got a card from him in late June. She and I have kept in close touch since
then. Mother helped her put together a nice parcel for him last month. He's
allowed one of those every three months."

"And when were you going to tell me?"

"I wanted to make sure he was all right before I
said anything. Once I knew I was coming over here I decided I'd rather talk to
you in person than write you about it."

"Can I write to him?"

"Yes, I have the address for you. He's allowed to
send three letters a month and four postcards. He'll send any replies to you to
the house in London, not your army address, and I think it might be better if
you sent all of your correspondence to him through me at home. The Germans
probably don't want their prisoners communicating with enemy soldiers." He
grinned. "I brought along a letter we received for you last week."

He pulled an envelope from his pocket and smiled.

"Give it to me! What were you waiting for?" I
grabbed the envelope from him and ripped it open.

Woody,
I suppose you've heard the news by now. It looks like I'm not as good a fighter
pilot as I thought. There were two Messerschmitts
after me and I only saw one. Don't let anyone tell you that parachuting out of
a burning plane is the same as in practice. My landing wasn't by the book but I
survived – broke my left ankle and dislocated my right shoulder. It's a good
thing it worked out that way or I wouldn't be able to use a crutch.
So I get to sit out the rest of the war. Don't worry about me. Things are all
right here. At least I won't need the protection you talked about in your
last letter. I'll write when I can but outgoing mail is limited and Mum comes
first, you know. But I'm sure she'll pass along whatever news she has, now that
she knows you know where I am. She was trying to keep it from you so you
wouldn't worry.
Take care of yourself and I'll see you in Somerset before you know it.
Yours,
Terrence

I read it through a second time and then
handed it to TR. As he read it I thought about what Terrence might be going
through. The letter made it sound as though he was doing fine. I knew it
couldn't be as good as he made it sound, but he probably didn't want me to
worry.

"Sounds like he's okay and there's nothing to worry
about." TR handed the letter back to me.

"Yeah, he makes it sound more like he's gone to
spend the summer at Brighton than the rest of the war as a prisoner, but I
think we can assume he's all right."

"Don't worry too much, Woody. From what we've been
able to tell, the Germans are abiding by the Geneva Convention in their
treatment of prisoners. Besides, I don't think the war will last all that much
longer."

"Why? Do you know something I don't?"

"I know a lot of things you don't, little brother,
but I think it's pretty common knowledge that we've finally got the upper hand
now. The fighting's not over by a long shot, but I can't imagine the war going
on for another year."

"I hear some of the men saying we'll be in Berlin
before the winter's over."

"I'm not quite that optimistic, but the end is
getting closer."

Just then several American soldiers, most of them
Negroes, approached us. They got coffee and TR introduced them as drivers from
his convoy. The men sat down and talked about their trip from Normandy. They
told tales of the fighting that I had not seen or heard much about, the
American landings at Utah and Omaha beaches. I'd heard about Gold and Juno from
other British and Canadian troops we'd encountered, but the American sector had
been further west. Apparently the Omaha landing had been the worst by far. And,
as bad as our own battles to take Caen had been, the Americans had had just as
much trouble in the hedgerows around St. Lo.

The others took consolation in the fact that the
Germans had lost so many more men than we had, but that didn't comfort me. A
dead body of any nationality was still someone's son, brother, father or
husband. And I'd seen too many wounded, maimed men of all nationalities in so
much pain. Once they were out of action their nationality made no difference to
me. And while these men, TR included, had an arduous and somewhat dangerous
task driving supplies across a not-quite fully liberated France, they hadn't
seen the battle casualties I had up close.

But I still wanted to hear their news, although as
much as I tried, I couldn't keep my mind completely on what the men were
talking about. I kept thinking about my Terrence, wounded and trapped in a
prison camp. I'd worried about him all through the war, knowing how dangerous
his flying missions were. But at least then he was free. Now he wasn't in
danger any longer, but he was a captive. And, as always, there was nothing I
could do about it.